


Static

by FatalViolet520



Series: (all about) you, you, you [5]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Canon Compliant, Confessions, Crying, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt, Jealousy, M/M, Making Up, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Panic attacks (not graphic), Use of knives and heat/branding as imagery, internalisation of feelings/running away from problems, lowkey mutual pining, minho is oblivious, reference to mental health issues, toxic thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-05 22:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19049536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatalViolet520/pseuds/FatalViolet520
Summary: "You make me uncomfortable," Minho chokes out, and that's not right,that's not right, he didn't mean to say that, and Jisung's leaning away from him, hurt coming into his expression."What - what did I do," Jisung manages through his pain, "Hyung, tell me, what did I do -""Leave mealone," Minho says, voice brittle like glass shards are raking down his throat and pricking behind his eyes, "I don't like it when you're around me." The words aren't meant to come out like that. They are not what he means. He can't even look at Jisung as he stands up blindly, knocking into the table and rushing out the door.He doesn't hear the choked sob coming from behind him, and everything becomes static.





	Static

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stray_Anpanman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stray_Anpanman/gifts).



> once again, this is another angsty angst fic for stray-anpanman, MY BELOVED TUMBLR MOM and well please read the tags for warnings, but i'm adding them here as well :3 rated teens and up for the angst
> 
> WARNINGS: Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Emotional constipation, Arguing, Emotional hurt, Crying, Reference to mental illness, panic attacks (not graphic), Use of knives and heat/branding as imagery, toxic thoughts, internalisation of feelings/running away from problems, miscommunication
> 
> moving on, this does have a happy ending, i promise you, and if i forgot to add any warnings, please come and tell me!! enjoy reading, as always. [playlist :>>](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ITj7ZRxlrQAECG3ujmNU3/)

 

_If we could take out all the emotions_  
_In our hearts_  
_There would be no fear that wanders_  
_Between misunderstanding and understanding_

 

* * *

 

It’s strange how fast his mood can dip, MInho thinks. Just ten minutes previously, he had been laughing with Woojin, happy to be taking a short break from practising their choreography and messing around with everyone; now, he can’t swallow the abrupt lump that’s lodged in his throat as he watches Felix lean on Jisung and wrap his arms around Jisung, the both of them giggling. There’s suddenly something heavy on Minho’s tongue and he doesn’t want to name the taste. 

 

The feeling stays with him for the rest of the day as he watches the other members reach out for and cuddle with Jisung. It’s a sinking, heavy feeling that lodges itself in the pit of his stomach and snakes out poisonous branches into his chest and lungs, rooting deeply in his gut and making him sick. He places the feeling after a little while as it becomes harder to breathe.

 

It’s jealousy. 

 

Yet, he doesn’t understand. What does he have to be jealous about? Jisung is perfectly free to cuddle with anyone he wants to, and Minho knows Jisung would gladly cuddle with him if he so much as hinted at it. The feeling settles, and though he still laughs and shoves and hugs Jisung, a sharp pang runs through his chest when he sees Jisung leaching onto someone else other than him, and he knows,  _ knows _ , Jisung can hug whoever he wants and he can ask for affection from Jisung. 

 

And,  _ yet _ . 

 

Minho doesn’t tell anyone what he’s feeling. There’s not a particular reason why, but if he can’t explain it well, he reasons to himself, and if he can’t even explain it to himself, how could he trouble the others with his unknown feelings? He can’t place why he’s jealous, as if something’s blinding him, stopping him from doing so, and his helplessness at trying to identify his jealousy irritates himself. 

 

He doesn’t mean for it to happen, but he finds himself stopping himself from reaching out to Jisung, finds himself hesitating to hug Jisung, finds himself talking less and less to Jisung, finds himself growing distant, afraid to approach Jisung in fear of hurting him with his confused feelings. He knows, he sees that Jisung is hurt by his distance, not understanding why there’s suddenly a distance between them, and he wants to reach out, wants to take his hand and talk with him again, but he  _ can’t _ , not with the lead ball of emotions sitting heavy on his tongue and refusing to budge. 

 

He starts shutting everyone out. It’s easier that way, and Minho thinks, as he looks at Seungmin and Jisung play-fighting, he’s a coward. 

 

Days pass, and he still doesn’t tell anyone, lets the lead ball swell and poison his tongue and thoughts, roiling with every touch that someone presses to Jisung, his jealousy like needles under his skin that makes him squirm, wanting the jealousy to  _ stop _ . His heart tears when he sees Jisung smile fall as he pulls away when Jisung tries to hug him, and he can’t stop shaking, can’t stop his emotions from flowing over and tainting Jisung, who has done nothing wrong at all. 

 

It’s easier to close his eyes. Easier to deny and ignore that he is hurting, that Jisung is hurting. It’s easier if he stays away. 

 

Nothing, however is easy. He chooses to stay away, but Jisung chooses to crowd in, keeps coming to spend time with him, keeps trying to hug him, keeps trying to bring him in and close the gap this distance between them. It only makes Minho more scared that he’s going to hurt Jisung, and for every one step that Jisung takes closer to him, he backs off two paces, and the gap between them keeps growing and stretching, thin like a strand of thread that’s on the verge of snapping. Minho knows it’s going to snap soon, but he can’t open his mouth, paralysed by his own poison and he thinks everything’s going to collapse when Jisung asks to meet him in the studio that evening. 

 

“Hey,” Jisung says, a small smile gracing over his features, turning from where he had been messing around with something on the computer. The smile slides right off, shattering on the floor when Minho gives him no reply, just sits on the sofa stiffly, not meeting his eyes at all. 

 

The pause between them stretches into a set of ellipses, and the longer it strains between them, the heavier Minho’s tongue becomes, unable to say anything; his head is bowed with the weight of his feelings and he can’t look up at Jisung; his fists are clenched, trembling slightly, knowing this is it, this is where everything comes to an end. 

 

“Hyung,” Jisung starts, trying to make Minho look up at him, “I - I was just wondering if you’ve been okay lately. You… You haven’t been talking much, is there something bothering you?”

 

“Nothing,” Minho says. Too quick. Too stiff. A lie that Jisung can read almost too easily. 

 

“You’ve been quite - quite distant lately,” Jisung presses on, his voice wavering uncertainly and Minho is  _ still  _ not looking up at him. “Are you okay? Is it - is it… something I’ve done? Did I do something wrong?” He’s shifting closer now, approaching Minho as he drags his rolling chair forward, hands coming to reach for Minho’s, but Minho takes his hands away like he’s been stung, lips now trembling. “Hyung?” 

 

_ I’m sorry _ , Minho says desperately in his mind, his mouth  _ not fucking opening _ , and all he wants to say is  _ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry _ ,  _ I’m sorry that I feel uncomfortable and jealous when you hug the other members and I don’t know why and I never meant to hurt you, I’m sorry _ and he can’t take the way Jisung is looking at him, worried and compassionate, and he can’t because he deserves none of that and his mouth  _ still won’t fucking open _ and Jisung touches his shoulder and all of a sudden the lead ball gains enough poison that it rips his lips open and what actually leaves his mouth is -

 

“You make me uncomfortable.” 

 

_ I don’t mean that _ , Minho thinks immediately, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth together,  _ That’s not what I mean _ . His fists, already balled up, are now shaking and he can’t bear to look at Jisung, can’t bear to look at the hurt that plasters itself over Jisung’s expression, can’t bear to hear the sharp intake of breath, can’t bear to feel the warm hand leave his shoulder, can’t bear the knowledge that he had now hurt Jisung when he had never mean to in the first place.

 

Jisung’s shrinking away visibly now, leaning away, but through his hurt he’s  _ still  _ looking at Minho with something like worry in his eyes.  _ Don’t _ , Minho wants to scream,  _ I don’t deserve your worry _ . He feels like he can’t breathe, iron bands of jealousy wrapping itself around his poisoned heart, ears starting to ring with a loud buzz that makes everything fade away yet come into frightening clarity all at the same time. 

 

“Hyung,” Jisung says then, his voice amplified by the static in Minho’s ears, and he sounds like hurt, sounds like pain, sounds like worry, and Minho wants to tune everything out and leave himself behind. “Hyung, what did I do? Tell me, please, what am I doing that you don’t like? Hyung, I -”

 

“I don’t like it when you’re around me, stay  _ away _ from me, leave me  _ alone _ ,” Minho spits, interrupting Jisung and shooting to his feet, shaking as he stares at his feet, world swaying before him and the static overtaking his being. He doesn’t quite know what he’s saying but he knows it’s not what he’s feeling, not what he means to say, and there’s anger and frustration and helplessness welling up in the deep recesses of the empty cavity he calls his chest, and he catches sight of Jisung’s expression as he looks up, intending to leave before he can do anything else. 

 

Jisung’s eyes are glossy, mouth parted in shock and face drained of colour. For one moment, Minho sees everything that he’s done flash before his eyes and Jisung’s expression burns into his mind like hot metal to flesh and something in him breaks when it was already broken. He leaves, banging open the door and leaving it wide open, his ears buzzing louder than the rush of his blood and the words in his mind and the poison on his tongue. 

 

He doesn’t hear the choked  _ Minho  _ that comes from the open door behind him, and he leaves everything behind, because it’s easier that way, and he’s a coward, and the static in his ears is spreading to the rest of his body.

 

There is an eternity frozen within the moment that Jisung hears Minho say  _ leave me alone _ and then there is a forever locked in the second when Minho looks up at him, cold eyes and unfamiliar expression and like he’s lost, and then leaves, trailing a path of Jisung’s shattered self behind him. He thinks he manages a weak “Minho,” in an attempt for Minho to come back, but it’s so small that he can’t hear it himself, and the world seems to close down and in on him, and the montage plays in his brain again, so crystal clear that he’s reliving it again and again. 

 

Minho, starting to not return his affection and staying away, keeping a distance. 

 

Minho, coming into the studio blank faced and stiff, looking like he’d rather throw himself out the window than be in the same space as him. 

 

Minho, face lined cold and bitter, saying  _ you make me uncomfortable _ but his eyes have life coming back into them and he had pressed on, hoping to break the Minho he knew out. 

 

Minho, his eyes losing that spark and retreating back, pronouncing each syllable of  _ stay away from me _ with poisonous clarity and then  _ leaving _ . 

 

The world is too small, closing in on Jisung and pressing on his lungs, each scene on a loop he can’t stop inside his brain, and the words stick in his mind and sink into his brain, looping a chain around his chest and he might as well brand the words on his forehead. 

 

Minho is uncomfortable around him. Doesn’t want him to be around him. Wants him to  _ stay away _ . So Jisung will. Because he doesn’t know what he’s done, because he’s always cared more for Minho, because he wants Minho to be happy. 

 

Because he  _ likes  _ Minho and now all he has are the shattered pieces of himself with a heart that Minho had taken and broken. 

 

His vision blurs away and he slumps onto the table. If, he thinks, being numb feels like this, he’d choose this over the pain that’s been gnawing away at him for so long. He closes his eyes at one point, but there’s no point when he can’t see anyway. 

 

_ God _ , the voice in Jisung’s head says,  _ you really thought Minho liked you too _ . There is nothing Jisung can do to silence the voice in his head, and night falls for him even though it’s still bright out.

 

* * *

It’s been two days since Jisung’s asked to meet Minho in the studio. And it’s only been two days yet Felix’s already asked him if things between Minho and him are okay; Seungmin had asked quietly about the new distance between them;  Changbin’s come up and hugged him, of all things, telling him he’d be okay. And now, Chan’s approached him, asking him to sit down in the studio, a soft smile on his face. 

 

A part of his brain notes the parallels of their settings and he can’t help but laugh a little to himself at the irony of this whole situation. 

 

“Jisungie,” Chan simply says, bringing Jisung in for a tight hug. He doesn’t say anything else but Jisung, whose emotions have been stored in a glass jar balanced finely on the tip of a needle, starts to break through and it only takes Chan pressing his head into the juncture of his shoulder and rubbing up and down his back before Jisung feels the first prickling of tears behind his eyes. 

 

They stay like that for a while, quiet in a studio that has now become a sanctuary from it’s previous prison, and Jisung can’t help it that his tears start to flow, worn thin by the fight with Minho and his own feelings. His tears stain and wet the fabric on Chan’s shoulder but Chan just shuffles closer and hugs Jisung tighter, trying to sooth him. 

 

“‘S okay,” Chan murmurs, “Just let it all out, Jisung.” 

 

“I don’t  _ understand _ , hyung,” Jisung bursts out a second later, and then he lets go, all the tears punching out from his chest where he’d kept them for the past few days, and he can’t help but curl in and sob, heaving so hard that his chest caves in and it feels like he  _ can’t breathe _ , only vaguely aware of Chan’s hand rubbing down his back and his own cries that sound muted to his own ears. 

 

It takes Jisung more than a few moments to just cry, and when he comes back to his conscience, Chan’s shirt is soaking wet and there’s a numbness ringing through his body. 

 

“Okay?” Chan asks, voice sounding too far away to Jisung. 

 

“Not really,” Jisung admits, voice stabbed through with sobs, “But better.” 

 

“Do you wanna talk about anything?” Chan continues asking, pulling some tissues for Jisung to wipe his face with. 

 

“I - it’s just - it’s Minho-hyung,” Jisung admits, words heavy in his mouth and he has to blink rapidly to rid of the tears that rise to his eyes just at the thought of Minho. “We - we had a fight a few days ago, and - and I didn’t know he felt that way.” The memory of Minho’s words sear across Jisung’s heart like a hot knife and the same wound, even though unhealed, continues to tear and sink deeper, bleeding his broken heart in shards and ribbons. 

 

“How did he feel?” Chan presses gently. 

 

“That - he was uncomfortable around me -” Jisung’s breath hitches, “- and that he wanted me to stay away from him.” His jaw clenches, like he’s physically trying to stop himself from crying, but the tears squeeze out from the corners of his eyes anyway, and his heart is newly shattered every time their fight plays out in his head. 

 

“I don’t  _ understand _ , Chan-hyung,” Jisung says, words starting to slur together as sobs bubble up his throat, “I  _ don’t  _ understand, what have I done? He - he never even said anything, and - and he doesn’t look like himself, hyung, I’m - I’m  _ worried _ .” 

 

“I know, Jisung,” Chan whispers, gathering Jisung into his arms again, “I know you are.” His hands come to tame the mess of Jisung’s hair and he reaches for tissues to blot the tears running down Jisung’s face, and it’s with a soft voice that he suggests for Jisung to rest tonight. “We’ll worry about this tomorrow, okay?” He says quietly, not missing the heavy, exhausted look on Jisung’s face. “We’ll deal with this tomorrow.” 

 

“Okay,” Jisung says, trusting Chan, “Okay.” 

 

Faintly, as Jisung lets himself close his eyes and let the darkness wash over his stagnant pool of emotions, he notes Chan’s  _ we _ , and he knows, as he slows down for the day, that he won’t be alone, no matter what happens. They’re a team, a family, from the beginning to the end. 

 

* * *

It’s difficult to find Minho, Woojin muses as he surveys the empty dance practice room. The clock reads that the time is near midnight, and yet none of them seem to have seen Minho after the vocal training almost two hours ago. Minho isn’t around when they take breaks, seems to melt away when group practice ends, and makes himself so scarce when they’re on the bus back home that no one really knows what to say to him. 

 

It’s not for lack of trying, though. Hyunjin had approached Minho and asked to create some choreography together for one of their songs, and Jeongin had pulled out the puppy eyes and pleaded for Minho to go over some of the dance steps with him. Minho had obliged both times and all the other times that the rest of them have ever asked something of him, but he still doesn’t talk, doesn’t approach Jisung, especially, and looks at them like he isn’t quite sure if he belongs with them or not. 

 

Woojin doesn’t like that light in his eyes. It reminds him too much of a year back, when they couldn’t be sure if they would be nine. He’ll be damned if he lets their fight go on like this. 

 

It’s three in the morning when Woojin finally catches Minho. Minho walks into the dorm quietly, like he’s used to doing so, and he yelps when he sees Woojin sitting in the living room. 

 

“Hyung,” Minho says, sounding winded, “Don’t scare me like that!” He sounds so much like his usual self for a moment that Woojin cracks a smile and gestures for Minho to come over. 

 

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Woojin starts off lightly, and Minho visibly freezes at that.

 

“You see me everyday,” Minho says, his little laugh sounding forced. 

 

“Do we really, though?” Woojin asks, a little cryptic, and Minho just presses his lips together, looking dour in the amber night light of their living room. “Anything happen to you lately, Minho?” His question hangs in the air for longer than it should, and he knows that Minho is contemplating on his answer, close to spilling everything that he’s been bottling in for so long. 

 

“I fought with Jisung… I said some things that were really - really bad, and I hurt him,” Minho finally says, looking more and more miserable with each passing word that he forces out of his mouth. “I - I don’t know why, hyung, but when I see you guys hugging him or something - it feels weird, I feel weird, and I don’t know why.” He’s now biting down on his bottom lip hard enough that the skin is starting to break, but he squeezes his eyes shut and pushes the rest of his words out before he can’t. “And I really didn’t mean to say them, hyung, they weren’t what I meant,  _ they really weren _ ’ _ t _ .” 

 

“I think you know what you need to do,” Woojin says lowly after a while, now pulling Minho into a hug, letting Minho cling onto him. 

 

“I do,” Minho says thickly, his sobs clogging up his voice and breaking it, “I do, hyung, I do, but… I don’t know why I feel - I feel jealous, hyung. I - I don’t understand, I don’t know  _ why _ , hyung.” He’s crying now, tears sliding down his cheeks and dampening Woojin’s shirt but Minho still tries to suppress his cries, and they shake his body and make him clutch at Woojin tighter. 

 

“You’re jealous,” Woojin echoes, and the larger implications of everything comes, dawning, glaring in his eyes, and it’s like he can see the dots being connected themselves. Minho, jealous of the others being clingy with Jisung; Minho, being jealous because he’s not the sole object of Jisung’s affections; Minho, jealous, because he  _ likes _ Jisung, and hasn’t realised so yet.

 

Minho’s still crying, but there’s a slight shift of his head that Woojin takes a nod, and Woojin doesn’t quite know what to say. The revelation isn’t all that surprising once he runs it through his head again, but he thinks it’s surprising Minho hasn’t picked up on this himself when he’s usually so perceptive about the rest of them. 

 

Perhaps, Woojin muses, as he brings Minho to the bathroom and tells him to wash up and rest for the night, Minho is in denial deep within his subconscious, and that denial is blinding him. Just for a little moment, he stands outside the bathroom, where he can hear the water running, and he closes his eyes. 

 

_ They need to make up _ , Woojin hopes, almost desperately,  _ please _ ,  _ let them be okay _ ,  _ let them be okay _ . Once Minho emerges, he pulls him in for another hug and tells Minho they’ll deal with it tomorrow, a tight squeeze of his hand assuring Minho that he won’t be alone, and whatever happens - they’ll be there. 

 

There’s only so much they can do alone. 

 

The next day, Woojin takes his time to observe Minho, being as inconspicuous as he can. Minho doesn’t spare a glance when Felix drapes himself all over Changbin, giggling; he doesn’t blink when Hyunjin and Seungmin pinch Jeongin’s cheek, cooing at him and laughing when he shoves them away; he just grimaces and makes a face when Chan comes round to drop a kiss on Woojin’s cheek, mouthing something that looks like  _ lovebirds _ . 

 

And yet, when Jisung snuggles up with Hyunjin, or when he tries to kiss Jeongin, Minho looks over before forcing himself to look away again, jaw clenched tight. His face is lined with pain and regret, but he stays away, like he doesn’t want happiness to come back, like he doesn’t deserve to be happy. 

 

Woojin wonders how he should break it to Minho that he’s jealous because he likes Jisung. It’s certainly one thing to realise it yourself, but Woojin thinks telling Minho while he’s in this state is going to break him and he’d rather spare the pain for Minho. But as everything turns out, he doesn’t need to tell Minho at all. 

 

“Stop staring like you wanna take Lix’s head off when Jisungie’s trying to kiss him,” Changbin says off-handedly when they’re taking a water break later. He nudges Minho’s side jokingly as he joins Minho in looking over at where Jisung and Felix playfully tussling around. “Jealousy isn’t pretty, hyung.”

 

Minho turns to stare at Changbin now, eyes wide and water bottle slack in his loose grip.

 

“Yeah, hyungie,” Hyunjin chimes in, plopping down on the floor next to Minho and grabbing at a water bottle. “Everyone knows you have a crush on Jisungie, you don’t need to hide it from us or go all possessive.” He lets out a little giggle and reaches over to ruffle at Minho’s hair, but Minho doesn’t even mind, just sitting there and staring into the mirror with an expression Woojin commonly relates with brain freeze.

 

“I… like Jisung?” Minho says, voice small, a few beats later, and Changbin just quirks an eyebrow. 

 

“Don’t you?” 

 

There’s something changing in Minho’s expression, like he’s battling with something in himself, then his eyes are closing and his head is bowing and there’s something broken traced around his mouth. “I do,” He says, voice even smaller now, and he doesn’t see the panicked, worried look that Changbin exchanges with Hyunjin. 

 

It takes the whole day for Minho to come to terms with his realisation before he’s seeking Chan out, asking with an almost desperate tone if  _ hyung can I please talk to you _ , and of course Chan makes the time. He pulls Minho into an unused dance studio and Minho’s tight-lipped for all of maybe two seconds before he’s sinking to the floor and words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush. 

 

“Hyung, I fought with Jisung,” Minho says, words stuttering even as he rushes them, “And - And I think - I think I  _ like  _ him, hyung.” He draws in a breath after he says that, shaking like he’s going to crumble anytime soon, words still pouring out. “Hyung, how can that be? I made the person I like cry, I hurt him, I don’t know - how can I - I don’t, I don’t,  _ I don’t _ -” He cuts himself off, fists clenched so tight that his knuckles are white and face screwed up miserably, about to cry soon as he starts taking rapid, shallow breaths. 

 

“Minho,” Chan says, sliding closer but not touching Minho, “Minho, can you see me? Can you breathe deeply for me as I count, yeah?” He waits for Minho to reach out, waits for Minho to force a deep breath in through his shudders, waits as he counts slowly and helps Minho to regulate his breathing. 

 

They sit like that for several long minutes, until Minho is quiet, slumped against the wall and hand slack in Chan’s grip. “‘M sorry,” He says, voice splintered across several octaves and looking small. 

 

“You don’t need to be sorry for that,” Chan says gently, smoothing a finger over the back of Minho’s knuckles and runs over the bitten nubs of Minho’s nails. “I’m not the one who needs to hear this apology, Minho.”  _ It’s Jisung _ , the unsaid words float between them, and Minho nods jerkily, too drained to spare anymore words. 

 

It’s silence after that, but Chan always knows it’s what he needs.

 

Minho still doesn’t quite know how to approach Jisung after he leaves Chan’s side, but his mind is a little clearer and his thoughts more sorted out. His feelings of jealousy stem from his crush on Jisung, and he knows he needs to work on it, can’t continue being mindlessly jealous like this. The jealousy still simmers low in him, boiling away in the depths of his gut, but it’s tamed by the knowledge there’s a reason behind it, and he pushes the jealousy away everytime he sees someone cuddle Jisung, actively countering it by reasoning with himself.

 

It gets a little easier every day to control his jealousy, and the sudden spike in emotions when he sees Jisung with someone else no longer comes. It just comes as a little throb of his heart before he’s moving on, and he flushes when Chan claps him on the shoulder, a proud smile graced on his face.

 

He still needs to apologise to Jisung, and he thinks he has to do it soon. 

 

It’s with these thoughts in mind that he goes to find Jisung a mere few days later, a semblance of what he intends to say forming in his mind. Jisung is both hard and easy to find. He’s not around when they have a break, but there are little hints he leaves behind that makes Minho hope maybe he still has a chance. At forgiveness, he tells himself, but the little part of him says  _ a chance at together _ and Minho keeps that part of him away. 

 

He has more important things to work on himself before he can even think about dating anyone. 

 

“Jisung went out to the convenience store,” Seungmin supplies, “But he should be back soon if you wanna talk to him.” 

 

“Thanks,” Minho says simply, but maybe some of his nervousness slips through because Seungmin stands up and opens his arms, eyes warm as he smiles a little. 

 

“You’re okay, hyung?” Seungmin asks as Minho accepts his hug, but there’s a tone of certainty to it, like he knows Minho will be okay, and Minho can’t help the sudden rush of affection for Seungmin and the rest of them, his second family that he had managed to hold on to despite everything. 

 

“Thank you,” Minho murmurs, “Thank you.” 

 

It takes a little while for Jisung to come back, but when he does, Minho approaches him before Jisung can duck out of his way. 

 

“Jisung,” He calls softly, and tries not to let Jisung’s flinch and wary expression sink too deep into his heart. “Can - Can I talk to you?” 

 

“I - yeah, sure,” Jisung says, almost like he’s relenting, and he drops a bag of snacks and drinks on the floor, following Minho to the studio once again, pulling fingers through his hair and replacing his cap. He sits when Minho gestures for him to and tries not to stare or fidget, the words Minho had said to him still curling around his brain, vice grip keeping him wary and away. 

 

“Um,” Minho says, breaking the frigid silence between them, shifting so he can face Jisung, their knees almost knocking together as he does so. 

 

“Yeah?” Jisung returns, voice a little tight, and now he’s the one that can’t look at Minho, staring somewhere behind Minho’s shoulder. 

 

Minho doesn’t think he has any right to feel hurt. “Well - I just - I wanted to apologise. And tell you - some things. You - You don’t need to listen to me… Not after what I said that day but - but I wanna just - talk to you. And - and… yeah.” He takes a breath after he says his part, then adds, “Please,” and waits. 

 

It takes Jisung half a second to make up his mind and another half to wonder if he’s doing the right thing. “Okay,” He says, eyes sliding from the wall to the bridge of Minho’s nose and deliberately not noticing the redness of the tip of his nose. 

 

“Th - Thank you,” Minho breathes out, and he doesn’t think he’s felt thankfulness strike so deep in his chest before. He swallows harshly, pressing his palms flat against his thighs and tries to organise all the things he wants to say so Jisung can at least understand where he’s coming from. 

 

“Jisung, I like you, more than a friend,” Minho says, and starts the next sentence before he can let Jisung’s changing expression faze him. “And it’s because I like you that I’ve been a dick, which isn’t an excuse at all, and I - I’m so, so sorry. I was - was jealous when the other members were affectionate with you, and I didn’t realise it and lashed out on you when you were just looking out for me.” He takes in another breath, nerves feeling like they’re about to collapse, and presses on for the last stretch. “I distanced myself from you because I didn’t want to hurt you with my thoughts and feelings but I did in the end... and I just - I just want you to know I never meant any of those words I said. They weren’t the words I wanted to say.” Here isn’t where he means to end so abruptly, but his throat is closing up and the last drops of his bravery has been expended, leaving him empty, his chest a cavity of darkness with the fragments of his heart crumbled carelessly. 

 

Jisung doesn’t say anything at first, still and unmoving, mouth slightly open and expression like he can’t believe what he’s just heard, but then he’s reaching over hesitantly, fingers sliding in between Minho’s splayed palm. “Then, what were the words you wanted to say?” He asks, voice quiet, fragile, trembling, a picture puzzle of hope starting to rise again from the ashy remains of his pain. 

 

“That - that I’m sorry,” Minho says when his voice is more steady, “That I’m sorry for having these thoughts, for being uncomfortable and jealous when I saw you with the others. You - you didn’t even do anything, you tried to help me, and I - I  _ said  _ that and I just - I’m sorry, Jisung, it’s no excuse for what I’ve done.” 

 

“I understand,” Jisung says, his voice now shaking but his fingers are lacing together with Minho’s and he’s looking at Minho, eyes starting to fill. “What you did was… but I understand, I really do… thank you, for telling me this.” He pauses then, seemingly debating on his words, before he continues, “I was - I was really hurt, hyung, when you said that. When you said - you were uncomfortable around me, I thought I was doing something you weren’t comfortable with and you never told me… your distance hurt me the most, I think. It - it felt like you couldn’t trust me, to tell me what was bothering you.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Minho whispers, “I really am, Jisung, I’m so sorry. I do trust you - I just - I didn’t know what I was feeling and… and I hurt you.” There are words he wants to say, but most of it is weighed down with his thoughts whipping up into a storm. Thoughts that goes like he never wanted to hurt Jisung but here they were, Jisung hurting and he, powerless to do anything or heal the pain he had never wished upon Jisung. 

 

The heavy air around them relaxes into something a little softer, something a little more like understanding, though it’s still laced with pain, and Minho sees it in the way Jisung seems to think before reaching over to touch his shoulder, the way Jisung rolls words around in his mouth like he doesn’t want to offend him, the way Jisung looks surprised when he leans into his touch. 

 

“Hyung,” Jisung calls softly then, in the middle of this, and Minho looks up, the word feeling so foreign to his ears that have known nothing but static for the past weeks. “You - You said you like me, right?” There’s a flush coming into his ears and spreading down his neck and Minho can only nod before Jisung’s saying, “I - I like you too, hyung.” 

 

The words run a silver ribbon around them, and they edge the shape of Minho’s pain, softening it just a little and etching the marks for where the stitches would sow and heal over. He’s looking at Jisung in shock, and everything fades into the background as he closes in on Jisung, Jisung,  _ Jisung _ , ears filled with static as he tries to say something. “You - you what? You… like me too?” They are words he never expected to say, never hoped for, never thought he’d have the pleasure of saying. 

 

“I do,” Jisung says, smiling a little, and it’s the first smile Minho has seen directed at him for ages. “I like you, hyung, I do.”

 

There’s a moment in which everything that has happened flashes in front of Minho’s eyes and the only thing grounding him is Jisung’s hand in his and he knows he knows he can’t afford to let Jisung go but also can’t hurt Jisung again, can’t sit back and watch happiness pass right by him, can’t push everything away and wonder why he isn’t getting better. His heart is being pulled in two different directions, and despite everything, he  _ knows  _ he isn’t going to start anything, isn’t going to propose the idea of getting together while he’s still like this, and he can’t hold Jisung back, stop him from finding his own happiness.

 

“Hyung,” Hisung starts then, voice paving a pathway through the fog of Minho’s mind like he can read Minho’s thoughts, “I - I’d wait for you. I’d help you to get better, I would. You - you hurt me, but we’re humans and we will hurt each other, it doesn’t mean you’re unforgivable… I’m not perfect myself, and you’ve helped me, as has everyone else. We’re here, hyung, we’re not going anywhere and we’ll all help you.” 

 

It’s not Minho’s choice to make Jisung’s decisions for him, but he can’t help the small, “Are you sure? I - I’m going to be holding you back like this -” 

 

But with the way Jisung is looking at him - determined eyes and soft smile and worry etched across his forehead - Jisung has already made up his mind. 

 

“I’d wait a thousand lifetimes, Minho,” Jisung murmurs, and that’s that.

 

* * *

_ Several months later _

 

Minho and Jisung are both not perfect, for they are humans, and humans will fall, will make mistakes, will hurt each other and themselves and break into pieces. Yet, the pieces can be reformed, can be made better and changed, if they are open to change and improvement. This comes with time, and only time can show how far they’ve come. 

 

Minho learns to tamp down and counter his jealousy with the knowledge that he’s the one Jisung likes, that he’s the one Jisung’s chosen, that affection comes in many different ways and platonic affection is just as important as romantic affection. He learns to tell Jisung things, learns not to bottle things up and keep them inside, no matter how insignificant he thinks they are, no matter if he can’t express them very well yet. He learns how to talk, how to phrase words, how to best convey the turmoil of his inner mind on days where the sun doesn’t reach him. 

 

Jisung learns to give Minho his space because he knows Minho will find him, learns that they have different languages of love, learns to approach Minho if he doubts or anything on his mind. He tells Minho if he’s being a touch too possessive, tells Minho he’s come so far when Minho doesn’t think he’s done well, tells Minho he’s doing well, he’s doing fine.

 

They learn to trust each other and to talk to each other. Above all, they learn that they are not perfect, but they are together, they have seven brothers standing by them, and while they won’t ever be perfect, they are  _ together _ , and together is better. That is all that really matters, in the end. 

 

It’s many months later that Minho finds himself sitting next to Jisung, both of them alone in the dance studio. The clock reads close to midnight, and MInho’s worn out but he feels at peace with Jisung next to him like this, heads leaning against each other and the only sound he’s really hearing the sound of Jisung’s steady breathing. 

 

He doesn’t really know what pushes him to say it. Maybe it’s how far they’ve come, maybe it’s how he can now be like this with Jisung, maybe it’s the late hour and overwhelming affection bubbling up his throat in place of the lead ball’s blessed absence. Maybe it’s everything and all of it, but Minho can’t help but lean closer and take Jisung’s hand. 

 

“I like you,” Minho says, quiet and reverent, “I like you so much, Jisung.” 

 

There’s a heartbeat between his words and when Jisung opens his mouth, and everything of them together coils into shimmering gold thread that binds them together, and then Jisung says, “I like you too, hyung,” with the softest look in his eyes and Minho thinks this is all he ever wants in his life. 

 

They still have a long way to go, and sunny days aren’t promised for the rest of the journey, but they have each other, they have the rest of their team to rely on. Right now, they aren’t together, but in any other sense or way, they are, and they are happy where they are and where they will go. 

 

“Together, hyung,” Jisung says, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Minho’s hand, and MInho can feel his smile against his skin. 

 

“Always,” Minho says, a forever promise laced into the single word, and when he looks at Jisung, he thinks he can see his present and future and everything shining in Jisung’s eyes, golden and warm and shimmering, and this is all he’s ever wished for. 

 

(he never thought he’d deserve happiness, but now, at Jisung’s side and laughing with everyone else, this is the happiness that he has always wanted for.)

**Author's Note:**

> writing angst like this always takes a toll on me djaskdsalfn but other than that MOM I HOPE YOU LIKED THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and surprise surprise i think i have another fluffy gift for u as well :>>> heheheh <3
> 
> also on a serious note i tried to emphasise that jealousy is a toxic trait and it's something minho is actively trying to overcome by trusting jisung and himself and knowing that at the end of the day it's only him that jisung wants and love. the other aspects of this fic - misunderstandings and arguing and mental illnesses - i hope i portrayed them well, and i never want to romanticise any of this because these are all real, serious issues that needs to be tackled with properly and sometimes professionally. the relationship that jisung and minho have here aren't a picture perfect definition of what a healthy relationship is but be rest assured and know that they are getting better. 
> 
> minho not being ready for a relationship is based largely off my own experiences because i know that at this point in my life i cannot start or maintain a relationship and i think it's important to me that i put this out there, that if you're not ready to have a relationship, no matter how old you are, you aren't alone. 
> 
> anyway on a lighter note, im gonna be posting lots over this summer holiday so i hope u guys look forward to that uwuwuw and if i broke ur heart here pls come scream at me about it i will cry with u because i broke my own heart ;~;


End file.
